


nothing more

by Kasuka



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Nothing but angst, Takes Place After A Sunset with Orihara Izaya, Vague Relationships, Vague Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuka/pseuds/Kasuka
Summary: It’s a pretty little thing, the sweet pea resting in the palm of Izaya’s hand, the butterfly-shaped petals a blue so soft as to appear almost gray in color—where it isn’t saturated in blood, anyway.





	nothing more

There’s a single knock on the front door that’s so soft, Shinra’s almost certain he imagined it—but there’s no mistaking the sounds of retching that come from beyond the hallway after a stretch of silence, inspiring him to rise from the couch and investigate the happening of which was, admittedly, _slightly_ abnormal and on _his_ doorstep, no less. 

He opens the door with such a flourish and lack of disregard that a small voice whispers in the back of his mind that he ought to be more than a little appreciative of the fact that Celty wasn’t home to witness the act—not that it matters, really. He’s punished for his actions by a speckling of blood across the front of his shirt, as well as… flower petals? But nothing’s more surprising than the man that had stumbled across the threshold when he opened the door, catching himself with bloodless fingers around edges of the frame the mere moment before their bodies would’ve otherwise touched.

Shinra stares as the man composes himself, wiping blood and spit from his mouth with the back of his hand. The eyes that seek out his glisten with a wetness that he’s never seen in them in all the years that they’ve known each other, a fact made all the more surreal by the fact that the man doesn’t smile _or_ laugh in the face of Shinra’s blatant shock. 

             “Shinra,” Orihara Izaya says, and— _ah_ , there’s the honeyed tone he knows so well, even if it isn’t _quite_ right. “It’s been a while.”

 

Shinra stands in front of Izaya, steadying him upon the CT scanner’s bed while he chokes on a flower. The situation itself feels like an out of body experience—a fascinating happening that shouldn’t be yet was because there was no denying feverish warmth in the fingers curling in at his hips, simultaneously keeping him close while attempting to push him away. 

As a contrast to the man’s frantic pulse, his thoughts flatline.

 

             Surgery could remove your ability to love anyone.

Izaya met his stare once his legs hung over the edge of the bed and Shinra would’ve been hard-pressed to list the emotions that came and went from his ashen face at the statement, the knit between his eyebrows conveying too much without lasting enough for meaning to be discerned. He said nothing, but hummed acknowledgement. 

             And you’re okay with that?

 

It’s a pretty little thing, the sweet pea resting in the palm of Izaya’s hand, the butterfly-shaped petals a blue so soft as to appear almost gray in color—where it isn’t saturated in blood, anyway. And it occurs to Shinra then, with the resuscitation of his thoughts—and, briefly, his conscience—and while staring past the bowing head of dark hair, that the carelessly spoken question had been unnecessarily cruel and that the answer was more so. 

             “I’ll need some time to prepare,” he says, quietly and at length, “for the surgery.” 

To his utter lack of surprise, Izaya says, “thank you.”


End file.
